


Confrontation and Interrogation

by Mouse9



Series: Don't Complicate It [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Another awkward encounter, Big Brother knows all, Gen, and has pictures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: All Greg wants is fun, sexy times with Irene.Why does Big Brother feel the need to complicate that?





	Confrontation and Interrogation

**I’m bored DI.x**

His phone vibrated on the desk beside him, the metal on the wooden desk causing a soft buzzing sound.  He glanced at it momentarily before going to the  report he was finishing.  This  took priority. Playtime with Irene, while fun,  took a back seat to this  report his boss wanted within the next fifteen minutes.

Moments later,  his phone vibrated again.

**Entertain me.  Are you wearing my favorite light blue shirt?** **x**

A hand hovered over  the phone , his gaze bouncing between  the phone and the  report .  One quick message and then he’d finished. 

His fingers curled around the smooth metal when there was a knock at his office door followed by Sally opening it, looking harried. 

“Dammit Sal, you know I’m…”  his voice trailed off as Mycroft Holmes walked in right behind her. 

Hand moved away from the phone and he  stood up. 

“What’s Sherlock done now?” 

The man across from him  stood poised and regal, no hint of expression on his face as he stared down Greg.  Feeling a bit unnerved, he  glanced towards  Sally who was still hovering by  the door .   “I got this.  Thanks  Sally .”

She nodded, lips pressed tightly as she  glanced from him to  Mycroft before stepping out the office and closing  the door behind her, shutting the two men up alone.

The Holmes had a way of making people  uncomfortable .  Sherlock by rattling off deductions and  just usually being an utter prat,  Mycroft though… his entire demeanor made a person  uncomfortable .   Just the presence that said  _ I could have you shipped to Scotland tomorrow to guard sheep and there’s not a bloody thing you could do about it. _

“Have a seat.”  Greg offered, returning to his own.  He  didn’t look at his phone,  didn’t touch it,  didn’t even think about it.

Mycroft stood for one moment more before placing his umbrella against the visitor’s chair. He sat down in the old worn plastic chair, placing an attaché case on his lap he opened immediately.

“We have  a problem , Detective Inspector.”  He began as he removed a manila  envelope from the contents of  the case . Setting  the case onto the floor beside  his umbrella , he continued opening the  envelope .  “ A problem that demands your utmost attention.” 

“Okay,” Greg hedged, still not sure where this topic of conversation was headed.  Watching the other man carefully as Mycroft flipped open the flap and slipped out several rectangular  pieces of paper of various sizes.  Without a word, he began placing them face up onto the desktop.

Greg’s heart sunk to his stomach as he looked at them.  They weren’t  pieces of paperwork but  photographs .  Not any  photographs , pictures of he and Irene.  At the carpark, coming out of the bar.  Her exiting his flat wearing his shirt and belt. 

His cheeks flamed and his gaze flicked up to Mycroft.  The man merely sat there, watching Greg with those ice-blue eyes,  lips pursed. 

On the desk, his phone vibrated and the corner of Mycroft’s  lips turned upward for a fraction of a second.

Greg's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all fighting for a primary spot.  Should he apologize? Explain? Ask what  Mycroft wanted? Demand an explanation himself?  What would  Mycroft expect?

With an outward calm, Greg reached out and plucked up the picture of Irene wearing his shirt.

“Can I keep this?”  he asked, a wry grin on his lips.  Mycroft’s eyes narrowed. 

“This is hardly a game, Detective Inspector.”

“Never said it was.”  He retorted. “I’m not in a particularly playful mood right now. These are from the CCTV  camera , aren’t they?”  Greg tapped on the picture he held.  “Recognize the angle from the  camera located across from my flat.”

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that Miss Adler is a  highly intelligent,  highly sought after  criminal , blackmailer and  thief .”  Mycroft intoned

“Whom, according to John, everyone thought was dead until a year or so back.” Greg interrupted. 

“This is  highly inadvisable.  She worked with Moriarty. Rather intimately.”  THe word suggested everything yet gave away nothing.

Greg glanced down at the picture.  He  knew being involved with her jeopardous,  knew it from the start.  He also  knew that when he lost his mind due to the alcohol and all the blood rushing to his groin, the first time they met, when she handcuffed him in his car, she could have easily taken anything  she wanted from it.  He had his office  keys , access to the police database.  It would’ve been easy enough for a person like her, who managed to lift extremely sensitive  information from men in higher levels of government than he, to take whatever  she wanted . 

But she hadn’t.  She’d  merely cuffed him, tossed the  keys in the front seat and locked up the car before leaving him there. She changed his ring tone. From there it was easy to get access to the rest of the  information in his phone rather than  merely playing the joke of just changing his ringtone.

In fact, the more than several times they’d met  the only thing it seemed  she desired from him was… sex. 

He wasn’t a stupid man but this meeting a reminder of his foolishness.  Cognizant she could destroy him, destroy his career But all evidence pointed to that the only thing she sought now was him. There was something heady about that small realization.  But this was not the time nor the place to have an introspection. Not when Mycroft Holmes was sitting across from him reading him like a damn book. 

“She did.”  Greg put the photograph down and looked at  Mycroft , his expression steady and bland.  “And she’s paid that price. Look,  I’m sure you’ve had me investigated thoroughly the moment you found out about me and her.  Just as I  know that your investigation didn’t turn up anything.   I’m not selling state secrets, Mr Holmes.   I’m not giving her secret police routes from political prisoners while she has me tied up in the bed.”

Mycroft’s lip barely lifted, curled in distaste, enough to let Greg  know what he thought of that comment.

“Not that she is, I mean.” He choked back a snicker at that look. “Tying me up.”

“I could hardly care about your sexual inclinations.”

“The point being,” Greg hurried to continue. “I'm still trustworthy Mycroft. Who I do or don’t sleep with has no bearing on if I can or can’t do the  job to the best of my ability .”

“I would beg to differ.”  

Greg’s gaze narrowed at the man sitting across from him, hackles raised, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting heavily on the top of his desk.

“Give me one example of something I’ve done in the entirety that you’ve known me that said to you that I cannot do this job to the best of my ability.”  He growled.  “Short of spying on your brother, I have done everything you’ve asked Mycroft.”

Brown eyes bore holes into ice blue.   “ I’ve been demoted and then promoted.   I’ve had every single one of my case files scrutinized after Sherlock’s fall.  I sacrificed my career to help you and  your brother , before, during and after.  I have more than proven my loyalty to the Crown, this job and the bloody Holmes brothers.  So please, explain to me why having a casual shag with a woman you might not like is cause for my sudden betrayal?”

A heavy silence filled the room, the tension in the air palpable. Mycroft’s  gaze didn’t waver for a long time. Neither did Greg’s. 

“I… apologize Detective Inspector.”  Mycroft amended, his own  gaze shifting to the side for a mere moment before returning to Greg.  Greg blinked and straightened. Holmes’s never apologized, merely corrected themselves and carried on as if nothing had been said in the first place.  

“If it makes you feel a little at ease, Sherlock already knows about us.”  He offered. The response from Mycroft  this time wasn’t a slight curling of the lip.  His nose wrinkled as if he’d just smelled something distasteful and he reared  back in the seat so violently that Greg couldn’t hold  back the grin and accompanying chuckle  this time .

“Yep.  That’s pretty much the same look Sherlock gave me when he found out too.”  He  said , the laughter still evident in his voice.

Correcting himself almost immediately, Mycroft returned to his usual bland expression, straightening his posture to his previous ramrod sitting position.

“May I inquire as to what my brother  said when he discovered it?”

The question made Greg smile once more.  “To be honest, I can’t remember much of it.  Donovan was the one who told him, and I was trying to get him back on track, we were on a case.”  He shrugged, reaching a hand over to pick up a pen. His nerves were almost shot, and he was craving a cigarette.

“We talked afterwards where Sherlock gave me his 'she’s a dangerous woman, I hope you know what you’re doing  now let’s never talk of this again' speech, I assured him that I had no idea what I was doing but it was working and I was being careful and we left it at that.”

He ran the pen through his fingers as he spoke. 

“As of right  now , he would prefer not to hear of it. But I don’t think he’s upset by it.  Rather, he acts sometimes like it’s not happening.” Another grin. “Which is hard when Donovan’s around and  now that  John knows …”

“ John knows also?”  An  eyebrow shot up and Greg shrugged sheepishly.  

“That  one was Sherlock’s fault.  Had he not put her on speakerphone no  one would have…”

“He’s spoken with her?”  Greg wasn’t sure that  eyebrow could rise any higher on Mycroft’s forehead.

“It was brief.  It was once. He warned her, she flirted, as she always does, and I think John almost choked on his tongue.  That was the end of it. I swear to you  Mycroft , it’s just a thing.  All casual. I’m not picking out window dressings next week or anything.”

Mycroft exhaled loudly.  Gathering up  the photographs , he tapped them on the desk to straighten them.  

“You sure I can’t have that one?”  Greg joked. The look he received in return  said very clearly that  Mycroft did not find him amusing.

“I shall be keeping a closer eye on  you, Detective Inspector.”  He  said as he  slid the photographs into  the envelope and  slid the envelope back into the attaché case, closing it up. “If anything seems amiss or array, I will come for the both of you, am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

In  one smooth move, Mycroft stood and  slipped his umbrella over his forearm.  Giving Greg  one short nod, he headed towards  the door .  Greg scrambled to stand. 

“I’ll be in touch, Detective Inspector.”  He said as  the door opened under his grasp.  He  slipped through and disappeared like smoke. 

Blowing out a shaky breath, Greg fell back into his seat.

The door opened once more without a knock and Sally  slipped in. 

“What did the elder want?”  she asked.

“To warn me off the femme fatale.”  

“He found out?”  The delight evident in her voice as she stepped further into the office.  “The ice man knows and you’re  still alive to tell the tale?”

“I think it was supposed to be a threat.  And it  still is, but more in the way of ' we’re watching you' instead of 'end it now or  we’re running you out of town'."  He shrugged, ignoring the buzzing of  the phone .   Sally glanced towards the direction where  the phone lay and then back to Greg,  still grinning. 

“Glad it’s you and not me boss.”

Greg snorted.  “Could be you too, she’d be into that.”

Sally scoffed as she opened  the door .  “I’ll pass.  Watching as all your friends find out  one by  one is so much better.”

“Out Donovan,”

Snickering, she stepped out closing  the door behind her. 

Blowing out a breath, Greg sat back and stared at the screen.  Reaching over, he  finished the remaining part of the report quickly, saving it and sent it off, not really caring what it said at that moment.  It was mostly  finished , just not polished.  If his bosses had questions, they’d contact him.

Looking over at his phone, he reached over and picked it up,  looking at the messages.

**Are you ignoring me?** **x**

**Well this is a dangerous game you’re playing Detective Inspector.** **x**

**You’d better be in the middle of a** **meeting** **.** **x**

**Text me.** **x**

Pulling up the messenger app, he sent a  response . 

**Sorry baby doll, got a visit from Holmes the elder.** **GL**

Her  response came up a moment later.

**How delicious! Do tell him I said hello.** **x**

**Think I’ll pass.** **GL**

**I’m sure the story of your** **meeting** **will entertain me tonight DI.  About 7? Your place?** **x**

Greg grinned. 

**Can’t wait.** **GL**


End file.
